


Broken Bones, Beating Hearts

by Livelovelupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mentions of Death, POV Sirius Black, Wolfstar Hurt Fest 2020, graphic mentions of injury, mention of vomit, self-deprecating thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livelovelupin/pseuds/Livelovelupin
Summary: "Sirius is thinking about everything. He’s going over it to see if anything could’ve hinted at what eventually happened. Anything out of the ordinary, any warning sign, anything unusual. He comes up with nothing.Mostly, he’s thinking about how he froze."
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97
Collections: Wolfstar Hurt Fest





	Broken Bones, Beating Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Remus gets badly injured during the full moon and the marauders think they're going to lose him. Sirius is especially devastated due to their relationship.

It has been ten minutes and change for seconds when Sirius hurls everything in his stomach on the ground over his and James’ shoes.

He doesn’t know how it doesn’t happen sooner. He’s dry heaving with James rubbing his back and Peter making the vomit disappear as soon as it hits the floor, and Sirius is thinking about Remus’ hair, and how it was matted down with blood. Sirius has never been nauseated by blood before, but he reckons that statement is not true if his retching is anything to go by.

It seems like blood is everywhere. James is covered in it; his hands and cheeks and white shirt and shoes, even the lenses of his glasses have red stains on them. Sirius assumes it’s from when James carried Remus to the hospital wing. Sirius thinks he must be covered in blood, too. He sees it on the palms of his hands and he can feel it drying in his hair, around his neck. He feels sick.

His eyes are burning when he can finally breathe again. There’s no trace of him being sick on the floor, James is still rubbing his back, and his knees feel like they’re seconds away from giving out. He holds James’ forearm to steady himself.

“It’s okay,” James says softly. It’s the first time anyone has spoken since Madam Pomfrey threw them out of the infirmary ward. James screamed over the closed doors that Remus was allergic to fluxweed, and no one had talked since. Until now. “It’s okay. Come sit down. I think we’re gonna be here a while. We shouldn’t be dead on our feet when Remus wakes up, yeah? Come.”

James is tugging on Sirius’ shirt sleeve, and Sirius is thinking about how James said they should sit down for _when_ Remus wakes up, not _if,_ and Sirius knows this is a deliberate, calculated choice of word. He doesn’t know why it suffocates him.

James is tugging on Sirius’ shirt sleeve but Sirius isn’t moving. “Sirius, love, you—”

“James.” Sirius’ voice breaks. _“James.”_

James breathes. “Okay. I know what you’re thinking about right now, and I want you to stop, yeah? We’ve had bad moons, and we’ve made it through every last one. This is nothing we haven’t seen before, okay?”

Blood, again. It’s all Sirius can think about. It’s all he can see and smell. It’s _everywhere._ James is talking and Sirius isn’t listening, he isn’t even looking at James at all. He’s looking behind James, at the closed hospital ward doors, at the accumulated blood in front of them. He wonders how Remus has enough blood left in him, _if_ he even has enough.

“Not like this,” Sirius interrupts James, shaking his head. “Never before has he lost this much—James, I don’t even know how he’s still breathing. James, I could have _done_ something. I could have— Did you see his chest, James? Did you? It’s not— It doesn’t look like— It was shards of skin. James. _James.”_

James blinks, and his grip tightens around Sirius’ wrist. “Come sit. Just sit down, love. Come on.”

Sirius lets James drag him this time around, and suddenly he’s sitting between James and Peter on the chairs near the hospital wing. The sun is barely above the horizon, and the castle is slowly waking up. “He’ll be okay,” Peter says, unprompted. “Remus is the most stubborn person I know. More than you and James. He’ll be _fine._ He has to be.”

“He will,” James agrees.

Sirius nods, closing his eyes. He can hold on to that.

It’s been about two hours and Sirius hasn’t stopped thinking about how they ended up there, all of them. It was a full moon. They’ve become quite equipped with those over the years. Remus went to the shrieking shack before them, and Sirius followed as soon as he finished his last class of the day. 

Remus once told Sirius that the hours right before the full moon were worse than the actual moon and transformation themselves, because there was nothing to do but wait for something painful and inevitable to happen. Sirius couldn’t even begin to imagine how that felt. They wasted time, like they always did, reading books and listening to music and talking. Remus was tired and cold, pale and shaking, but that wasn’t unusual. Sirius sat next to him, and when James and Peter arrived with food for the both of them, Sirius was in the middle of telling Remus one of his favorite wizarding world fairytales, about a mighty red dragon and her misdemeanors, except it wasn’t an actual fairytale but an improvised story Sirius hoped would cheer Remus. And it worked. He forced Remus to eat some of his dinner and then the moon rose.

The three marauders always transformed the second Remus started seizing (as Remus always tells them to). During the actual transformation, when Remus’ bones are breaking and unbreaking and breaking, Sirius, James, and Peter always stand in the corner of the shrieking shack. Sirius always hears the snap of Remus’ bones, the heart-wrenching screams that eventually, after way longer than Sirius would like, turn into low growls, and Sirius always feels so helpless. They shuffled around Moony once the transformation was over, snuck out the shack and they spent the entirety of the night in the Forbidden Forest, _like always_.

Thinking about it now, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Remus ate two whole rabbits, one of James’ antlers got stuck in a tree, and Peter spent most of the latter part of the evening on Sirius’ back because they glimpsed a snake sliding around.

Nothing could’ve prepared Sirius for how violent the wolf would be when transforming back to Remus. Some full moons are worse than others, usually. Sometimes there’s just scratches and other times Remus would need seven stitches on his forearm. As James said, they’ve dealt with bad moons before.

Just, not like this one.

James and Sirius would stand right outside the shrieking shack door when the moon was setting. The wolf was the most violent, then. Peter went to freeze the Whomping Willow so they could get out quickly. As soon as Remus fully transformed back into himself (which, Sirius now realizes, took longer than it usually did), Sirius went in and approached him with a blanket and an alternative ending to their fairytale. Except, he froze when he actually _saw_ Remus.

Remus’ eyes, more bright, glowing yellow than the usual golden brown at that point, were half-closed. He was heaving loudly, his breathing shallow and quick, as if his lungs were not getting enough air, and his chest and abdomen were _horrifying._ Open gashes and cuts were pulsating with every single breath Remus took. Remus’ left hand was bent unnaturally under him. There was blood on his temple and forehead, on his forearm, and it was coming out of the open wounds in his middle. When Remus caught Sirius’ eyes, he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he started seizing. His chest muscles contracted and even more blood sprayed out, some of it landing near Sirius’ shoes.

Sirius stared at those droplets. He couldn’t move. It was almost as if he was watching from someplace else, like he wasn’t even in that room. Time slowed down, clock hands started lagging and falling behind until they stopped entirely, and everything came back full force once James rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder from behind, words dying in his throat when he glimpsed Remus for himself. Sirius was pushed to the side, and clocks, abruptly, started ticking again.

Sirius was next to Remus in an instant. He doesn’t remember much of what he exactly did, now. He pressed the blanket to Remus’ chest, thinking about how he needed something to press against Remus’ abdomen, and Remus’ temple, and the back of his head. Blood was coming from too many places. James was talking too loudly to Remus, trying to keep him awake. Remus had stopped seizing, and his eyes were closed. He responded to neither James nor Sirius.

There had been a scream from the door, and that’s when James carried Remus all the way to the hospital wing, Sirius and Peter hurrying behind.

And now they’re here.

Sirius is thinking about _everything._ He’s going over it to see if anything could’ve hinted at what eventually happened. Anything out of the ordinary, any warning sign, anything unusual. He comes up with nothing.

Mostly, he’s thinking about how he froze.

He is thinking about what Remus wanted to say to him when he opened his mouth. He’s thinking about Remus’ eyes, half-closed and yellow and _terrified_. He looked so scared. His right hand, the one that wasn’t broken, had been pressing down on his stomach up until the moment he started seizing, as if he wanted to stop the bleeding.

He must have been in so much pain. He must have felt so scared.

And Sirius froze.

Time is crucial in things like this. Sirius knows that. He _knows_ it. 

If only he hadn’t frozen, if he had thought on his feet and _done_ something, he might’ve been able to keep Remus conscious for longer. If he had called for James earlier, if he had pressed down on Remus’ wounds faster, who knows how better things would have been, then?

If anything ends up happening to Remus, Sirius would never forgive himself for freezing like that. Never.

“I can’t figure it out!” Sirius snaps, making both James and Peter jump in their seats. Sirius’ hands were pulling at his hair. He’s thinking about Remus. His breath is shallow. “Nothing was wrong. I would have never guessed. Everything was perfect, right? Is there something I’m missing? Was something wrong? I swear to you guys, I swear, I didn’t notice anything. Did you? Did you notice anything? No, right? No?”

“Sirius, nothing was wrong,” James says, shaking his head. “Everything was— Nothing was wrong. It was like it always is,” James says.

Peter tugs on Sirius’ hands until Sirius removes them from his hair. “There’s nothing to worry about, yet, Sirius.”

Sirius closes his eyes. “God _, yes._ Yes, there is, goddammit!”

Peter flinches, but he doesn’t back off. “No. Not yet, okay? We’re here, and Remus is in there with Madam Pomfrey, who’s the best matron I know. She’s helping him. If anything were to have already happened to him— God, I hate thinking about— We’d know, okay? We’d already know. Not knowing is the best thing right now, it means— it means he’s still alive, and that Pomfrey is helping him. It’s a _good_ thing, okay?”

Sirius blinks at Peter. “I—”

“It’s true,” James says, hand resting on Sirius’ knee. “The only thing we know for sure is that, right now, he’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay?” Sirius shrieks. “ _Okay?_ I should be reassured by the fact that Pomfrey hasn’t come out to tell us that Remus _died_ yet? That— that isn’t fucking reassuring.” Sirius’ voice becomes quieter. “That is _not_ reassuring.”

He’s crying, now. Not that it really matters. James’ hand tightens on his knee, and there isn’t anything to say.

Five hours and twenty-seven minutes. Maybe twenty-eight. James and Peter are sleeping on either side of Sirius, and Hogwarts is fully awake. 

Sirius is thinking about what would happen if Remus dies right now.

He doesn’t _want_ to, and he’d stop right this instant if he could. But he couldn’t. Sirius genuinely doesn’t believe he’ll be okay if anything happens to Remus Lupin. Someone’s life doesn’t stop because of one person, generally, but Sirius’ life would stop. If that person is Remus, Sirius’ life would. 

Sirius almost feels guilty. 

Deep down, in the very folds of his heart, Sirius doesn’t believe he deserves good things, and Remus is the best thing that has ever happened to him. Had Remus never met Sirius, maybe the universe wouldn’t be so set on making his life as hard as it is. 

It’s an absurd thought process. Absurd logic. Sirius can’t stop, though. He’s entered a whirlpool. He remembers the time nine-year-old Regulus started turning blue after he had swallowed a silver sickle. Sirius remembers thinking he should do something, but he just stared, feeling helpless. Kreacher had walked in on them. He helped Regulus, and Sirius wonders if Regulus would have died if Kreacher wasn’t there. If he would have died with Sirius _right there_ , watching, shaking, freezing. His mother screamed her voice raw about how Sirius could have murdered his brother when she found out. It didn’t come from a place of love or concern or distress; it was mostly because ten-year-old Sirius was already turning out to be a disappointment and Walburga could only ever produce so many heirs. Sirius was locked in his room for three whole days, and Sirius hated his mother usually, but he couldn’t help agreeing with her then. Regulus _would have_ died. 

When Remus told Sirius he loved him for the first time, Sirius pretended that Remus didn’t exist for about three weeks. He doesn’t know _why._ They were together, they were happy, and Sirius was so in love with Remus he couldn’t comprehend it most days, at all. When he finally came back to Remus, Remus didn’t chastise or reprimand or criticize or anything, and Sirius still doesn’t know how. It the roles had been reversed, Sirius would have never even spoken to Remus again. 

But Remus doesn’t hold grudges and he sees the best in people, always, even if there isn’t much good to see. Remus is good, better than Sirius could ever dream of being, and he _doesn’t deserve to die_. 

Not that it makes a difference.

Sirius’ eyes are mostly closed, so he doesn’t _see_ Dumbledore as much as he hears him. Dumbledore enters the infirmary ward hurriedly, and he closes the door so hard behind him, Sirius’ ears ring.

 _That can’t be good,_ is the first thought that enters Sirius’ mind. He stands up, startling both James and Peter, and his head feels like it split in half.

“Sirius?” Peter questions, his voice low and rough. Sirius recognizes James standing next to him, and James is the only thing he decides to focus on. James is familiar and he smells like clean laundry and grass, and metallic blood, too, but Sirius isn’t going to acknowledge that, the same way he won’t acknowledge Dumbledore running into the hospital ward like the entire world is on fire.

_James, smelling like grass and touching his forearm and anchoring him down since he was eleven, and Peter, who’s sweet and kind and the only person with enough chess skills to rival Sirius’ and make a game of chess interesting. Unbelievably stubborn Remus, who would not die on a full moon out of fucking spite, if nothing else._

James squeezes Sirius’ shoulders. “Sirius?” and Sirius’ eyes are closed, and he isn’t going to open them until someone exits the ward to tell them if Remus had died or not.

Sirius Black is a runner, and he feels like an imposter for being sorted into Gryffindor most days. He isn’t brave, not like Peter or James or Lily, and definitely not like the embodiment of courage that is Remus Lupin. He’s an imposter, and he is not opening his eyes or thinking about anything other than grass or chess or stubbornness until he knows for _sure_ that—

Three pairs of eyes snap toward the infirmary door when it opens. Sirius holds his breath as Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall (who Sirius is more surprised to see that anything else— he doesn’t remember seeing her enter the ward) walk toward them.

Remus is either dead, or he is not. Sirius’ life will either stop, or it will not... He could almost hear Madam Pomfrey’s exact tone of voice as she tells them that she did everything she possibly could, but she wasn’t able to save him. Remus lost too much blood, went through one too many full moons, arrived a fraction of a second too late and—

“Gentlemen,” Professor Dumbledore begins, and he is instantly interrupted by Madam Pomfrey.

“Remus is well,” she says quickly, and Sirius can _breathe._ He notices how shallow his breathing was before only after he inhales then, deeply, knowing that Remus is alive and well and breathing, too.

“Godric,” James whispers, and his grip on Sirius’ shoulder is so tight it is almost painful. It grounds Sirius, though. “ _Godric._ Is he awake?”

Peter breathes. “Can we see him?”

“Yes, he is awake, and his father is currently with him,” Pomfrey says. Sirius doesn’t recall seeing Mr. Lupin arrive, either. “I am sure he’ll be hesitant to leave. We should give them time and—”

“Why?” Sirius asks, his voice rough and scratchy and too loud. He clears his throat. “Why would he be hesi— Remus is okay, isn’t he? Why would—”

“Sirius,” McGonagall interrupts gently. Sirius wants to cry at how soft her voice sounds. “James, Peter. Remus _is_ very much well. It’s just… we thought he wasn’t, for a while.”

Sirius blinks. He isn’t really following.

“What do you mean, Professor?” James asks, and his grip on Sirius’ shoulder is definitely painful, now.

“Mr. Lupin’s heart stopped,” Dumbledore says calmly. “It was not beating when I arrived. We thought Mr. Lupin had died.”

Sirius’ head is spinning. “Remus is _dead_?”

“No!” Madam Pomfrey exclaims. “ _Salazar, Professor_. You’ll make them sick. No, Sirius, dear, Remus is very well.”

“But… his heart stopped,” James says. “and he’s— How?”

McGonagall sighs. “His heart did stop, for a while. But I assure you, it is very much beating and pumping all the blood Remus might need as we speak.”

Sirius needs to sit down.

“It just so happens that Mr. Lupin’s lifeline will not be cut short, after all,” Dumbledore says cheerfully. “It is very fortunate, of course. Remus is very lucky— not a lot of people’s hearts start beating again after they initially stop.” 

“Remus is _lucky?_ ” Sirius bellows, and he must be more strained than he thought because his vision instantly turns black when he screams. “In what world is Remus—”

“Sirius,” McGonagall addresses him, and his voice dies out. 

“I can’t really see, Jamie,” Sirius says instead, and he is instantly dragged to the chairs they were sitting on moments prior. Someone, or more than one someone, is talking to him, but Sirius isn’t listening. The whole ‘Remus definitely _did die,_ but no worries, he isn’t dead now!’ is making his head whirl.

After a short while, Sirius can mostly see again. James, Peter, and Professor McGonagall are crowding his immediate space. He doesn’t see Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey.

“Sirius?” Professor McGonagall asks, sounding worried.

“Yes, Professor. I— I’m sorry, I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?” James asks, sounding frantic. “Fuc— freaking Godric, Pads _. My_ heart is going to fuc—freaking stop. Are you okay?”

“Can you see?” Peter asks.

“You’re probably dehydrated. You need to—”

“James. Peter,” McGonagall says sternly. “The greenhouse is full of all sorts of beautiful, calming flowers this time of year, and I am more than certain Mr. Lupin would appreciate it if you brought him some, don’t you think? I think he particularly likes gladioli.”

James blinks. “Yeah. Yes. A gladiolus is Remus’ favorite flower. I guess— we could— uh. Sure thing, Professor.” James turns to Sirius, then. “You’re okay?”

“More than,” Sirius says, and he is surprised to see that he is being mostly truthful.

“Should we bring you anything?” Peter asks, and Sirius shakes his head. His heart feels mostly light, and his throat is scratchy, and Remus’ favorite flowers are gladioli and he is _alive._

James’ eyes are bright when he squeezes Sirius’ shoulders, and he stays in Sirius’ little bubble for a second or two too long, simply breathing and radiating too much pure relief. “We’ll be quick,” he says, and Peter and he soon disappear out of sight.

McGonagall sits in the chair right next to Sirius, and Sirius realizes that he is so relieved he might throw up because of it.

But he’d rather not.

“It is very divinely appropriate that Remus’ favorite flower just so happens to be the gladiolus, don’t you think?” McGonagall asks after a few moments of silence.

“Strength,” Sirius says. “It symbolizes strength and— and so does Remus.”

McGonagall chuckles. “Ever so poetic, Mr. Black.”

“He won’t die again, right?” Sirius asks because it’s been polluting his relief. “He— he won’t, right?”

McGonagall smiles sadly. “Remus is as alive as you and me, Sirius. Madam Pomfrey healed him beautifully. He will have to take it easy for a while, but he is fine.”

“Is there a reason the full moon was—”

Professor McGonagall shushes him. “Some full moons are crueler than others, as I am sure you know—” McGonagall stares pointedly at Sirius. “We should all be grateful that you simply _happened_ to walk by the Whomping Willow when you did, shouldn’t we?”

“Oh. Yes. _Yes_! Totally, Professor. As Dumbledore said, Remus’ lifeline just wasn’t supposed to—”

“You don’t need to overdo it, Black.”

Sirius’ reply is lodged back into his throat when the infirmary door opens, and Lyall Lupin steps out.

Sirius, having been raised by absolutely wonderful parents, doesn’t really know how to act or behave around them. He’s met both Remus’ parents before, when he had spent the better part of two weeks staying at the Lupins’ cottage that summer, and he thinks he gave a good impression. He doesn’t think they hate his guts, at least, which must amount to something.

He remembers how much the _opposite_ of discreet Remus and he were being that time. He wonders if Lyall or Hope knew about them.

All this to say, Sirius isn’t good with parents on lovely days with lovely weather and lovelier rest. He doesn’t think he’ll be good with Remus’ father _now_ , of all times.

Sirius stands up from his chair, and he clears his throat. "Ehm. Hello, Mr. Lupin. Great to see you again— well, I would've loved seeing you under different circumstances but—not that I don't love seeing you now! Because I do. I just wish that—"

Lyall Lupin looks bone-tired and entirely too sad, but he smirks at Sirius, and Sirius can see more Remus in him than he ever did before. "It's great to see you too, Black. These circumstances work fine by me, though. How have you been?"

"Wonderful!" Sirius says, and he thinks he could've done with 'fine' or even 'well', all things considered. There's still dried blood in his hair, after all.

Lyall chuckles slightly. "Let me take you away from your misery, child. I was kicked out because he wants to see you. And you didn't teach him how to read and write and shave, but I guess boyfriends come first, eh?"

Sirius gapes. They _definitely_ know. Okay. “Ehm, well. Well! Of course not, Lyall— oh, Godric. I'm sorry. Mr. Lupin, I—"

Lyall is full-on laughing, now. "Just go! I'll be back in a while, though, so keep that in mind. Stay decent or be quick."

Sirius' mouth is on the floor. He squeaks, for lack of a better word, and he wants to tell Remus' dad that Remus had almost cut himself in half not even six hours before, but he just nods, turns around, and crashes head-first into the closed infirmary door. He opens it and enters without looking back, even though he hears McGonagall call out his name.

_Mer-fucking-lin._

The whole interaction is nowhere to be found on Sirius’ mind, however, as soon as it dawns on him that Remus is okay. Remus wants to see him. He is going to see Remus, who’s _okay._

Madam Pomfrey is in front of the third bed on Sirius’ left, and it’s familiar because Remus is always lying on the third bed on the left, and as Sirius walks up to him, he feels normal and calm and his heart is probably beating too fast, but that happens around Remus all the time— so, normal.

Madam Pomfrey smiles at Sirius, and she busies herself with something on the other side of the infirmary ward. And Sirius sees Remus.

And he looks better than Sirius expects.

Sirius is expecting blood and cut skin and bright yellow, scared eyes. He doesn’t expect the clean white bandages on Remus’ chest, the soft-looking blanket bunched up in his lap, and the even softer look in his tired, lovely _lovely_ brown eyes when he sees Sirius.

“Sirius. Siriu—”

“You have such kind eyes, did you know?” Sirius asks, walking so he is standing next to Remus’ bed. He puts his hand on Remus’ bandaged chest, and he can feel his heart beating. “They’re so sweet and— and kind. It looks like you would always be there for people. And appearances might be deceiving but that fucking isn’t.”

“I’m not sure I have enough brain in me left for long-winded analogies at the minute, love.”

“No, I just— I love your eyes. I’m so fucking glad I get to see them.”

Remus smiles. “Any other epiphanies?”

“I fucking hate blood,” Sirius says, wiping his eyes. He feels like he will lose his footing from the pure, unpolluted relief he feels. “And your father apparently knows about us. _And_ Madam Pomfrey might have been a _Slytherin_.”

“Oh,” Remus breathes softly. His voice is low and bruised and sweet. “Madam Pomfrey _is_ a Slytherin.”

“The more you fucking know,” Sirius says. “It reluctantly makes sense. You wouldn’t think that it would but—”

Remus puts his hand on top of Sirius’. “Please stop crying, love.” He’s lying down on his back, and he closes his eyes.

“No. No, I’m happy, Re. I love you. I’m so relieved.”

Remus shifts slightly in the too-tiny bed. “Lie next to me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Re. Do you feel okay? Does anything—”

“You could never hurt me, Sirius,” Remus says, opening his eyes. Brown and lovely and calm.

“That wasn’t a metaphor, dipshit. You’re hurt. Does it hurt?”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Remus asks, ignoring Sirius’ question. He’s smiling. “You’ve been speaking in analogies since you came. How could I have—”

“Re. Remus,” Sirius says, and he sits on his knees next to the bed, his elbows leaning on the mattress. “Remus. I thought— I thought that—”

“You look exhausted, sweetheart. Come sit,” Remus says, touching Sirius’ cheek. Sirius closes his eyes.

“Fucking _hell_ . _I_ look exhausted?” Sirius shakes his head, holding Remus’ hand on his cheek. “You—you almost— I almost _died_ waiting out there because I thought that you— Merlin, Remus. I am so fucking glad you’re okay. I am so relieved you’re okay, love. I— "

Remus’ hand is wiping underneath Sirius’ eyes, and Sirius breathes. They’re okay.

“I cannot imagine you waiting out there.”

“Godric. I don’t even know how I didn’t lose it. I screamed at Peter and James a lot.”

Remus chuckles softly. “Awe. You should apologize.”

“I screamed at _Dumbledore.”_

“I died,” Remus says suddenly. He looks like he didn’t mean to. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

Sirius chokes on nothing. “You don’t fucking _say_.”

“I was next to the river in the Potter Manor’s back yard. You know the one? Of course, you do. The river that James’ family owns, which is a little ridiculous. I was there. And my grandmother was there. My mother’s mother. We talked, I guess. Apparently, She had been a witch herself, but she never said anything to ma, because ma didn’t have magic and she didn’t want to scare her or make her feel like—like she was an outcast, you know? And then ma ended up with dad, who is a wizard, because apparently life has a sense of humor or irony or whatever.” Remus says all of this very hurriedly. “And then I asked her how to get back and she asked me if I really wanted to, and I said yes because I did want to, and she smiled and went into the lake and I freak out because, what the hell, right? And then I wake up and my dad is crying and—”

“Remus.”

“My mind probably made it all up, but it was nice. I never met her before she died, you know, and now I have. Please stop crying, sweetheart. Lie next to me.”

“I don’t want to _hurt_ you,” Sirius says, not at all okay with the fact that Remus had apparently talked to dead relatives. He lets out a sob. “Godric, Remus.”

Remus closes his eyes, again. He looks sleepy. “I am so full of pain-repressing and numbing concoctions that I cannot feel my own tongue. Truly. I just want to sleep. Sleep next to me, please? I’m so freaking tired, love.”

Sirius lets out a breath, and he stands up. “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

“I already told you that you could never,” Remus says, shifting to make room for Sirius.

Sirius glares a little bit and lies down gently. Half of his body is off the bed but it doesn’t bother him. Remus buries his face in Sirius’ neck, and the most calming thing is that Sirius can feel Remus’ heartbeat, and smell the dittany in Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Remus murmurs.

“Hello,” Sirius says, kissing the top of Remus’ head. “Welcome back to the realm of the living, I guess,” Sirius tries to joke, but his voice is way too shakey.

 _“Welcome back to the realm of the living,”_ Remus mocks. Sirius can’t see his face but he knows that he rolls his eyes. Remus chuckles. “I love you.”

“More,” Sirius says. “Way, way more, Re.”

“The worst thing about all of this is I can’t look at that stupid river the same way,” Remus says, voice sleepy. “I love that thing.”

“I’ll get you one,” Sirius says immediately. “We’ll graduate and get married and I’ll get you your own fucking river.”

Remus fully laughs. It tickles Sirius’ neck. “So many promises.”

“Screw you. You lose the river.”

“That’s okay,” Remus says nonchalantly. “I’m looking forward to the rest of it more, anyway.”

“Remus. _Remus._ You’re going to _kill_ me.”

Remus doesn’t reply because they both hear James arguing with Madam Pomfrey at the door.

Sirius groans.

Remus laughs. “Hey! I want to see them.”

“Your dad told me you asked for _me_ ,” Sirius says, smiling.

“Must have been really high, then. What is it that you said about my dad earlier?”

“Oh, he—” Sirius is interrupted by one or two too many Gryffindors entering the infirmary ward, far too noisily.

Soon enough, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and James and Peter (who appear to have brought the entirety of the greenhouse with them) are crowded around Remus and Sirius.

“We’re here! With gladioli cause they’re your favorite and lilies cause they’re mine,” James says, closing the curtains around the bed.

“Honestly, James,” Marlene shakes her head.

“I brought sunflowers purely because they’re my favorite,” Peter says. “No miserable pick-up line in mind.”

“Excuse you! Miserable? Lily liked it, right, Lils?”

“Honestly, James,” Lily says, parroting Marlene and rolling her eyes, but there is a soft smile on her lips.

Remus sits up in the bed, so that he’s no longer lying down, and Sirius fixes the pillows behind their backs. Now Remus’ head is resting on Sirius’ chest and Sirius has one arm around Remus’ waist. Before anyone could even say anything else, James is sitting on the edge of the bed near Sirius’ knees. He hands over the flowers he’s hugging to Peter (who now Sirius couldn’t really see behind all the plants) and he places his hand on Remus’ chest.

“Your heart is beating,” James says loudly. Sirius notices that his glasses are no longer blood-stained, but his shirt still is.

“Last time I checked, yes,” Remus says.

“You’re okay?”

“He’s fine,” Sirius says. He’s probably smiling too big. He’s glad that all of them are there, no matter how much he pretends otherwise. “He had an epiphany at your family’s estate and everything.”

Lily and Dorcas both look at Sirius funny, but James ignores him completely. His hand is still on Remus’ chest and he looks two-thirds relieved, one third absolutely delirious. “You do that again, and I will bury you myself, Lupin. Dance on your fucking grave. Okay?” He laughs wetly _. “Okay?”_

Remus grins. “James, I—”

“Honestly James,” Lily says. She pushes James slightly so there is room for her to sit on the foot of the bed, as well. She rubs Remus’ knee “Re. Re, we’re so freaking glad you’re okay.”

“It’s nice to see that you’re doing well, Rem,” Dorcas says sweetly, as Marlene and she come closer to the bed.

“I kept telling everyone that you’d be okay, just so you know,” Marlene says, grinning.

“We brought you chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice and dried cranberries, though heaven only knows why you like the cranberries,” Peter says after he piles the flowers on the floor and sits next to Lily, “and we got a change of clothes and a toothbrush and— God, Remus. We’re so relieved.”

“You forgot to mention the flowers, Pete,” James says, and he’s much quieter than he was when he first entered. His hand is holding Remus’, and Sirius thinks he may know how James feels.

“I think Remus can see the flowers,” Dorcas says. “They’re taller than Marlene.”

“Hey!”

Sirius sees Remus looking around, taking it all in. James and Lily and Peter sitting on the bed, Marlene and Dorcas standing near the headboard of the bed, at the chocolate on the tiny table and the flowers on the floor and Sirius next to him. Remus’ eyes are shiny. “ _You guys_. You’re so sweet. Thank you. I really don’t— thank you.”

“Oh, don’t be daft,” James mumbles. “You don’t have to say—”

“As heartwarming as all of this has been,” Madam Pomfrey says, opening the curtains around all of them suddenly. “I am afraid that Remus over here needs to rest as much as he can, at the moment.”

“But Madam Pomfrey,” James begins. “We just got here! You can’t just—”

“Can’t what, exactly, Mr. Potter?” Pomfrey asks, smiling slightly.

Sirius laughs. “Oh, I wouldn’t answer that, Jamie. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey was a Slytherin.”

James blinks twice. “What? Wait, _what_? But you’re so nice.”

Madam Pomfrey raises her eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t really know if I’m _that_ nice, Mr. Potter.”

 _“Honestly, James,”_ Dorcas mumbles, and everyone laughs, even James himself.

Madam Pomfrey has to physically get James off of the infirmary bed. Everyone promises that they’ll be back by dinnertime (“Oh, with Alice and Frank and Mary, too!” Lily says. “They wanted to come but Slughorn wouldn’t let them exit his class.”) and the infirmary is instantly quiet again when Madam Pomfrey closes the door behind them. She turns around. “I am allowing you to stay, Black, only out of the kindness of my heart. Any foul play or— or—”

“Of course! I will be an angel, Madam, I promise.”

Madam Pomfrey shakes her head, but she doesn’t comment. She’s all the way across from them when Remus says, “An angel my fucking—”

Sirius shushes him. “Sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“ _You’re_ exhausted,” Remus says as he gets more comfortable on Sirius’ chest. “You sleep. You kind of smell puke-y.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess. Sorry about that.”

“You’re so stiff,” Remus says. “Relax, sweetheart.”

Sirius grins in Remus’ hair. “Just stay awake long enough for me to come up with a crude response to that. Please. It practically begs for it.”

Remus chuckles softly. “Sleep, Sirius.”

“You sleep. I’m not tired” Sirius says, playing with Remus’ hair. Remus’ breathing eventually evens out and Sirius feels him falling asleep.

Against his better judgement, Sirius does end up falling asleep. When he wakes up, it’s very late in the afternoon and the sun is golden. Remus is still sleeping, snoring softly, and Sirius notices Lyall hunched asleep in a chair next to them, with a blanket hastily thrown over him. The infirmary ward smells like sage and lavender and rosemary, and Sirius simply breathes in for a second.

Remus’ hand is clutched in his, and Sirius thinks of all the different ways this day could’ve ended. This isn’t what he thought would happen. Sirius breathes, again, and he smells the sweet dittany clinging on to Remus’ skin and hair this time. He closes his eyes, slowly drifting back to sleep, thinking about dittany instead of blood and brown, soft eyes instead of yellow, terrified ones, and he’s never slept more peacefully in his life.

**[Finished]**

**Author's Note:**

> This was so incredibly fun to write! If you've made it this far, hey! Thank you for reading & I hope that you liked it! ❤❤


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